PAULINE  FORE  MOFFITT 
LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
GENERAL  LIBRARY,  BERKELEY 


MOORE  VERSUS   HARRIS 


MOORE   VERSUS   HARRIS 


An  intimate  correspondence  be- 
tween George  Moore  and  Frank 
Harris  relating  to  the  Brook  Kerith, 
Heloise  and  Abelard,  astonishing 
criticism  of  George  Bernard  Shaw, 
Moore's  rejection  of  Oscar  Wilde  as 
an  artist,  important  and  amazing 
statements  about  other  contem- 
porary men  of  letters,  disclosing  the 
true  valuation  George  Moore  places 
on    his   own  personality   and  books. 


INCLUDING 


fac-simile  reproductions  of  letters  and  auction 
records  of  some  of  the  letters  printed  herein, 
also  caricatures  by  Max  Beerbohm  and  by 
the  late  Claude  Lovat  Fraser. 


PRIVATELY  PRINTED  FOR  SUBSCRIBERS 

DETROIT,  MICHIGAN. 

1921 


1,000  copies  of  this  book 
have  been  printed  of  which 
this  is  No. .  QS>^ '  •  .  • 


r[£  letters  printed  in  these  pages  have  passed  through  my 
hands  before  they  found  their  way  to  the  auction  room. 
Frank  Harris  is  the  only  critic  of  our  times  who  takes 
George  Moore  to  task.  The  portrait  of  his  old  friend,  which 
appeared  this  year  in  the  second  volume  of  his  ''Contemporary 
Portraits,"  astonished  even  those  who  knew  Harris'  opinion 
of  Moore.  It  seemed  severe  and  pedantic.  It  surprised  me 
who  heard  so  often  Frank  Harris  talk  of  Moore. 

I  believe  Harris  has  an  affection  for  Moore  the  man.  I 
know  he  admires  the  artistry  in  Moore's  early  books.  He 
thinks  'The  Lovers  of  Orelay"  one  of  the  best  love  stories 
and  recommends  "Confessions,"  the  "Memoirs"  and  "The 
Mummer's  Wife." 

But  Harris  is  a  conscientious  critic,  and,  as  Moore  says 
himself,  with  an  inborn  love  for  the  truth.  Therefore  he  took 
Moore's  measure,  in  the  correspondence  printed  in  the  follow- 
ing pages.  And  these  missives  lead  up  finally  to  Harris' 
portrait  of  Moore. 

George  Moore  assumes  immediately  the  part  of  a  de- 
fendant and  I  do  not  believe  he  helps  his  own  case  when  he 
denies  Oscar  Wilde  as  artist,  calls  Shaw  a  clown,  tries  his  hand 
in  a  most  irreverential  way  on  Jesus  and  finally  emerges  a 
self-styled  savant  of  Biblical  research. 

These  letters  prove  George  Moore  a  self -centered,  con- 
ceited egoist,  vain,  ignorant  and  totally  unappreciative  of 
other  men's  genius. 

Guido  Bruno. 


Seven 


.^k.  ^u,<:  TaAuA^;.   l,^ju 


SB 


V«x      -^       *^       j-v^w-^^t     ^^«^*^      H. 


w*  .     Vts^      >CA-  0-O-C       ,-** 


VwC^-^* 


^     «.     ^' 


jri^iJi.  k.wY^»^         ^o->. 


V4/>         v\*-*»         Vv 


]"V 


>..,.v*«A, 


l'^-       vi.cve'     V 


J 


Eight 


My  Dear  Harris: 

I  have  just  received  your  letter  and  my  memories  of 
pleasant  hours  I  spent  with  you  in  conversation  when  we  were 
both  young  men  compel  me  to  reply  to  your  letter  at  once, 
though  I  am  afraid  my  answers  to  your  questions  will  not  be 
those  that  will  be  of  use  to  you.  You  know  that  I  came  into 
the  world  under  bonds  to  speak  the  truth,  I  mean  what 
appears  to  me  the  truth,  about  art,  and,  however  much  I 
might  like  to  write  you  a  letter  tliat  would  be  of  use  to  you  I 
can  only  write  the  letter  whidh  the  post  will  put  into  your 
hands  in  ten  or  a  dozen  days  if  the  vessel  that  carries  it 
escapes  a  torpedo. 

The  first  thing  you  ask  is  for  me  to  write  to  you  about 
Oscar  Wilde,  and  this  I  can  do  easily,  but  I  am  afraid  that 
my  opinions  regarding  him  will  not  please  you,  for  they  are 
not  the  opinions  you  hold.  You  would  put  him  in  the  first 
class  as  a  writer,  and  I  should  put  him  in  the  third  or  fourth. 
It  is  not  a  long  time  since  I  read  a  book  of  his  called  "Inten- 
tions," and  it  seems  to  me  very  thin  and  casual,  without 
deptlx,  therefore,  unoriginal;  no  man  is  original  in  the  surface 
of  his  mind;  to  be  original  we  must  go  deep,  right  down  to 
the  roots,,  and  Oscar  Wilde's  talent  seems  to  me  essentially 
rootless:  something  growing  in  a  glass  in  a  little  water.  I 
was  struck  by  his  lack  of  style;  by  style,  I  mean  rhythm.  It 
is  all  quite  clear  and  correct  but  his  sentences  do  not  sway. 
He  had  a  certain  dramatic  gift,  he  moves  his  charcters  defdy 
and  his  dialogue  is  not  without  grace.  It  is  often  to  the  point. 
He  had  a  pretty  ingenious  drawing-room  wit,  and  these  quali- 
ties enabled  him  to  write  plays  that  are  not  intolerable  to  a 
man  of  letters,  and  superficial  enough  to  attract  audiences. 
If  I  understand  your  letter  rightly  you  seem  to  think  that 
Wilde's  abnormal  impulses  mark  him  out  as  an  interesting 
subject  for  literary  study.  It  might  be  so  if  Wilde  were  a 
great  writer.  He  is  that  in  your  opinion,  but  in  my  opinion, 
as  I  have  already  said,  he  is  in  the  third  or  fourth  class  and, 
therefore,  not  worth  troubling  about,  and  I  do  not  think  that 
anybody  would  have  troubled  about  him  if  the  Msirquis  of 
Queensbury  had  not  written  him  a  post  card ;  had  it  not  been 
for  that  unlucky  post  card  Wilde  and  his  literature  would  be 
sleeping  comfortably  in  the  dust  at  the  bottom  of  an  almost 
forgotten  drawer  in  company  with  Frank  Miles'  drawings. 
I  never  had  any  other  opinions  about  Wilde  than  those  I  am 
expressing  in  this  letter,  and  as  time  has  confirmed  me  in 
my  opinions  regarding  him,  you  will  understand  that  I  am 
more  unfitted  than  perhaps  anybody  else  to  write  an  article 
on  your  biography. 


Nine 


Yon  ask  me  to  express  opinions  about  Shaw,  and  his  woi4c» 
but  I  can  only  express  my  opinion  about  writers  whose  aims 
are  the  same  as  mine  and  you  know  that  Shaw  and  I  have 
nothing  in  common. 

At  the  end  of  the  letter  you  tell  me  that  your  book  about 
Oscar  Wilde  may  be  prosecuted  and  that  my  good  opinion! 
of  it  might  help  you. 

The  only  difiFerence  between  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  other 
races  is  that  somehow  it  has  come  to  be  believed  by  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race  that  if  a  man  sings  a  smutty  song,  the 
morality  of  the  whole  nation  will  decline.  We  maintain  on 
the  contrary  that  morality  is  above  literature  just  as  much 
as  the  tides  are  uninfluenced  by  any  amount  of  water  that 
you  would  take  out  of  the  sea  or  put  into  the  sea.  The 
morality  of  mankind  is  the  same  always,  and  these  prosecu- 
tions have  no  effect  except  blackmail.  There  was  once  upon 
a  time  in  England  an  English  poet  who  was  very  fond  of 
urging  the  government  to  take  action  against  booksellers  who 
sold  licentious  books.  At  his  death  it  was  discovered  that 
his  library  contained  the  finest  collection  of  indecent  literature 
in  the  world. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

George  Moore. 


G.  B.  S.  by  Claude  Lovat*  Eraser 


Ten 


My  Dear  Harris: 

I  know  that  there  is  nothing  in  ''The  Brook  Kerith"  that 
you  could  attack  with  success.  You  seemed  to  think  in  the 
article  you  published  that  I  was  not  acquainted  with  the 
subject,  but  I  know  myself  to  be  quite  as  well  informed  as 
Renan  and  that  there  was  no  point  at  which  you  could  strike 
with  effect.  Neither  private  nor  public  criticism  has  revealed 
any  ''mistake."  In  your  article  you  spoke  of  the  Gospel  of 
John  as  if  you  regarded  it  of  some  value  as  an  historical 
document,  whereas  it  is  as  I  am  sure  you  have  learned  since, 
a  merely  ecclesiastical  work,  I  might  almost  say  a  romance^ 
and  was  certainly  written  many  years  later  than  the  synoptic 
Gospels,  probably  about  a  hundred  years  later.  For  my  sake, 
I  mean  for  the  sake  of  the  publisher,  I  am  sorry  the  advertised 
attack  was  not  delivered;  a  well-directed  attack  would  have 
helped  the  sale.  It  surprised  me,  however,  that  you  did  not 
appreciate  the  tide  of  the  narrative  flowing  slowly,  but  flowing 
always  and  diversifled  with  many  anecdotes  that  heighten  the 
interest  of  the  reader.  I  cannot  but  think  that  I  have  added 
a  prose  epic  to  the  volume  of  English  literature.  I  don't  much 
care  whether  I  have  or  not,  but  that  is  just  my  feeling. 

George  Moore. 


Eleven 


40  Seventh  Street,  New  York. 
Sept.  14,  1920. 

My  Dear  George  Moore: 

Here  is  your  portrait  done  at  last  with  a  page  of  your  own 
criticism  inserted. 

I  do  not  suppose  you  will  think  the  portrait  flattering  (you 
have  too  many  flatterers  to  want  to  count  me  among  the 
number),  but  I  think  you  will  say  it  is  fairly  truthful  and  that 
in  it  wittingly  I  have  set  down  naught  in  malice. 

But  on  re-reading  it  for  the  nth  time  I  think  that  damned 
Brook  Kerith  book  has  shut  away  from  me  the  Moore  of  the 
"Confessions'*  and  of  "Esther  Waters"  and  "The  Mummer's 
Wife" — the  Moore  I  always  read  with  interest.  If,  on  further 
reflection  I  find  this  true,  I  will  certainly  amend  the  sketch 
in  a  later  edition  for  I  would  not  willingly  denigrate  my  worst 
enemy  and  I  still  reckon  you  among  those  friendly  to  me — 
mildly  friendly. 

In  the  old  days  you  used  to  tell  me  that  a  slating  review 
was  the  best  of  all  advertisements  and  you  used  to  ask  me 
to  slate  you  rather  than  leave  you  unmentioned.  I  think  you 
take  up  more  space  in  this  book  than  anyone  except  ShaW 
which  will  afford  you  perhaps  a  bland  satisfaction. 

I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  ever  see  you  again  though 
I  hope  to  be  back  in  Paris  and  at  work  on  my  autobiography 
early  this  next  year.  "John  Bull"  says  I  am  pining  for  Eng- 
land. Bumley  is  mistaken.  I  never  pined  for  England  in 
my  life  though  I  think  cold  grouse  and  a  bottle  of  Brut  Cham- 
pagne, such  as  one  can  get  only  in  London,  the  best  lunch 
in  the  world. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Frank  Harris, 


Twelve 


o^.  T-  //^. 


c^-^t^ 


Thirteen 


127  Ebiiiy  SL, 
September  27. 
My  Dear  Harris: 

I  have  just  read  your  letter  and  I  like  to  answer  it  before 
I  receive  the  volume.  There  were  some  excellent  glimpses 
in  the  first  part  of  your  article  in  Pearson^s  and  the  pages  you 
published  in  the  magazine  and  if  you  had  written  more  about 
the  object  than  the  writer  the  ''portrait"  would  have  been 
better,  more  life  like.  I  wrote  to  you  about  some  mistakes) 
you  made  in  speaking  of  the  "Brook  Kerith" ;  I  believe  I  did 
and  if  I  didn't  my  negligence  was  shameful  for  you  spoke  of 
my  lack  of  scholarship.  It  is  true  that  I  make  no  pretensions 
to  sc^holarship  but  it  is  also  quite  true  that  I  read  and  assimi- 
lated the  story  of  the  origins  of  Christianity  before  writing, 
the  Brook  Kerith  with  the  good  result  that  no  one  has  been 
able  to  pick  a  hole  in  my  erudition.  I  believe  that  I  spoke  of 
the  Essines  ringing  a  bell  instead  of  sounding  a  gong.  The 
melodic  line,  i.  e.,  the  line  of  narrative,  has  never  been 
excelled;  that  merit  you  should  have  not  overlooked.  Of 
course  it  is  open  to  anyone  to  say  that  the  writing  isn't  what 
it  should  be;  and  in  that  opinion  I  am  disposed  to  agree;  but 
of  the  writing  you  didn't  complain  and  nobody  has  complained 
except  myself;  and  these  things  being  as  I  state  them  I  cannot 
but  ihwik  that  the  Brook  Kerith  is  a  blind  patch  in  your  mind, 
and  I  cannot  but  think  too  that  your  prejudice  against  the 
book  was  engendered  by  the  fact  that  you  wrote  a  story  in 
which  there  is  question  of  Jesus  and  Paul.  You  will  resent 
the  suggestion  and  you  will  do  so  truthfully  for  nobody 
believes  himself  to  be  prejudiced.  I  am  writing  all  this 
because  I  should  have  put  you  straight  regarding  the  erudition, 
and  my  hope  is  that  your  unfortunate  remark  about  John's 
Gospel  at  the  end  of  the  first  part  of  your  article  in  Pearson's 
does  not  appear  in  the  book.  I  am  sure  I  wrote  to  you  point- 
ing out  that  John's  Gospel  was  a  romance  written  in  the 
second  century  of  no  historical  value  whatever.  You  writ^ 
better  about  men  than  you  do  about  books — I  mean  that  I\ 
think  you  do. 

Shaw  is  without  any  aestheticism  whatsoever  and  being 
without  any  synthesis  he  cannot  pursue  a  train  of  thought  for 
more  than  a  few  lines  and  has  then  to  contrive  his  escape  in 
a  joke;  and  it  is  strange  that  you  have  not  yet  perceived 
that  his  jokes  are  vulgar  claptrap,  the  jokes  of  the  clowns 
in  the  pantomime. 

You  have  in  yourself  a  subject  that  will  carry  your  name 
down  the  ages  if  you  write  it  with  the  necessary  sincerity; 
that  of  Jean  Jacques:  and  it  will  not  surprise  me  if  you  do 
write  it  truthfully  for  I  think  there  is  a  love  of  truth  in  you.: 


Fourteen 


I  learn  from  your  letter  that  you  haven't  lost  your  taste 
for  food;  it  is  extraordinary  how  what  a  man  is  transpires  in 
his  writing;  there  were  more  luncheons  in  your  life  of  Oscar 
Wilde  than  ever  were  eaten  in  this  world.  You  will  be  sur- 
prised to  hear  that  I  do  not  lunch;  it  takes  too  much  time 
and  while  my  secretary  goes  forth  to  find  hers  I  write  my 
letters:    this  scribble  is  achieved  between  one  and  two. 

It  may  interest  you  to  hear  what  I  am  writing.  I  have 
practically  finished  Heloise  and  Abelard,  an  epical  story  of 
my  journeys  with  a  sad  end;  the  erudition  of  this  book  is 
much  more  subtle  and  complex  than  anything  in  the  Brook 
Kerith  for  I  had  to  assimilate  ell  the  scholastic  philosophy, 
the  troubadours  their  poetry  and  music,  as  well  as  the  life  oJF 
the  time.  Abelard  was  a  light  before  the  dawn;  and  it  was 
he  who  unlocked  the  dungeon  in  which  the  ecclesiastics  had 
imprisoned  humanity.  It  is  true  that  he  did  not  throw  the 
door  wide  open  like  Luther,  but  he  opened  it. 

If  you  go  to  Paris  in  the  spring  enough  of  my  affection 
for  my  old  friend  remains  to  compel  me  to  take  a  ticket  to 
join  him  for  a  few  hours  and  to  listen  to  him  as  of  yore  while 
he  eats  his  luncheon. 

As  ever, 

George  Moore. 


Fifteen 


EXTRAORDINARY  LETTER  OF  GEORGE  MOORE  TO  FRANK  HARRIS 
CRITICISING  BERNARD  SHAW 

350.  MOORE   (GEORGE).     A.  L.  s.,  4  pp.,  4to,  121  Ebury 
Street,  September  27  [1920].     To  Frank  Harris. 

A  KBMARKABLE  LETTER,  in  which  he  writes  at  length,  answering  Harris's 
criticism  of  ' '  The  Brook  Kerith. ' ' 

**I  have  practically  finished  Heloise  and  Ahelard  an  epical  story  of 
many  journeys  with  a  sad  end.  The  erudition  of  this  hook  is  much  more 
subtle  and  complex  than  anything  in  The  Brook  Kerith,  for  I  had  to 
assimilate  all  the  scholastic  phVosophy,  the  troubadours,  their  poetry  and 
music  as  well  as  the  life  of  the  time, ' '  etc. 

Not  the  least  interejstino  is  Moore's  comment  on  Shaw: 

*'SJmw  is  without  any  aestheticism  whatsoever,  and  bein^f  without  any 
syntJiesis  he  cannot  pursue  a  train  of  thought  for  more  tJian  a  few  lines, 
and  has  then  to  cantrive  his  escape  in  a  joke;  and  it  is  strange  that  you 
Itave  not  yet  perceived  that  his  jokes  are  vu'gar  claptrap — the  jokes  of  the 
clown  in  the  pantomime  ** 

IMPORTANT  SIX-PAGE   LETTER   OF   A   MOST   INTIMATE   NATURE 

350a.  MOORE  (GEORGE).     A.  L.  s.,  6  full  pages,  8vo,  121 
Ebury  Street,  no  date.     To  Prank  Harris. 

A  long  and  most  interesting  letter  regarding  ihs  work  '  •  The  Brook 
Kerith,*'  of  which  Frank  Harris  had  announced  an  attack. 

"1  know  there  is  nothing  in  'The  Brook  Kerith'  that  you  c&uld  attack 
with  success  .  /  knew  myself  to  be  quite  as  well  informed  as  Renan 

and  that  there  was  no  point  at  which  you  could  strike  tirith  effect   .    .    . 

41 


) 


FROM  ANDERSON   CATALOGUE,   NUMBER   1593 

OCTOBER  17,   18,   1921 


Sixteen 


